


Laying a Foundation

by TigerShark



Series: Harry Potter and the Kindling of the Fire [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Genocide, M/M, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 03:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1535321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigerShark/pseuds/TigerShark





	1. Chapter 1

Harry let the broom float lazily in the cool autumn breeze. Below him sprawling walls traced lines of mossy gray through freshly clipped verges of thick green grass. A large flat circle of stone, inlaid with the Peverell crest was a epicenter of the roads. A stone shelter at one side held a large floo for deliveries and a smaller one for human traffic. A rectangle marked in yellow stone indicated the Knight Bus stop.

One narrow road led towards the bridge over the moat, and the outside walls of Peverell Keep. The other stone paved road wound a short distance away through stone walled fields to the newly rebuilt Peverell Village. Charlus had spoken truly when he said Harry would need several dozen staff, and Harry had the sinking feeling that more would appear over time. 

Just cleaning and rebuilding the outbuildings had taken several dozen men, even with Harry and some others helping with magic. Like any medieval Keep, there had been not only a village outside the walls but everything a village needed to survive. Coopers, tanners, grain storage, lumber storage, animal pens, butchers, smokehouses, stables and barns and pens of all descriptions. With the passing of centuries most if not all of the wood was gone, but a few stubborn preservation spells had hung on.

A small stone hut turned out to have been expanded on the inside to the size of a warehouse and filled wall to wall with fine wool, spun and dyed skeins and woven cloth. More unexpected treasures had turned up as the work crew had inched their way along the old roads. Chests still awaited a curse breaker to open, and Harry now had a collection of fine old wizarding stoneware dishes, many proudly bearing the Peverell crest. The old vegetable garden was merely humps of ground, but the potions garden and its tall iron topped walls was a tangled mass of wild greenery that Harry had set aside to deal with later. Possibly with fiendfyre, Harry wasn’t entirely sure anything else was going to subdue that devils snare. 

His first farmers were already working on the new kitchen garden and fields. Autumn it may be, but they wanted to prepare the fields before the frost set in, and plant some winter barley and such. If nothing else it would give them much needed fodder for the motley collection of livestock that Harry had acquired.

When word had gone around to the purebloods, some large estate owners and well off farmers sent along animals or materials. So Harry had been gifted with oddly colored horses, elderly ponies, extra roosters and so forth. They might be the odds and sods of the farmyard but Harry didn’t mind. He certainly had the money to buy more if they needed, but the gifts were a good sign already that his sanctuary was accepted.

Apparently most wizarding villages grew a vast amount of their own food, not trusting muggle sources. And Harry pondered, who could blame them? Even now in the 1930's it was disgusting what muggles did to their food. Not to mention that even normal plants grown in a high magical environment carried the energy that wizarding needed to mature properly. There was a reason that first year muggleborns always struggled their first few months at Hogwarts.

Harry had sat down one rainy day with his new butler and gone over projections for how much would be needed for just his existing staff and then adding in teachers and children. The amount a castle full of people ate in a week was astounding. And that was without taking into account candles, clothing, soap, wood for the fireplaces, floo powder ….. running a castle was definitely a full time job. Harry was glad that John J James had been one of the first squibs that Harry had interviewed.

Luckily for Charlus's accounts, Harry had brought his own money with him from the future. Not just his, but the Malfoy wealth, the Longbottoms and in short as much of Gringotts as they had been able to dig up and pour into a bottomless pouch. Harry only put a tiny fraction of it in Gringotts, and kept the rest in the pouch or sent small amounts as anonymous donations to other institutions and companies. Harry had a goal, a serious goal, and if money would help him get there, money he would use.

Today’s goal though was nearly a vacation for him … he was going to fly the boundaries of his estate for the first time. The wards seemed solid, but Harry felt it best to make sure he had checked everything personally. Harry turned the broom lazily over the village. Far below him a man guiding a pair of horses waved at him. Harry waved back, thinking it was probably Farmer Chalmers, judging by that hat.

The village they had restored petered out next to the still remaining ruins. Harry figured that it would take them years to clear away the destruction of centuries. But they had time. Beyond the village and the fields the road narrowed down to a simple dirt path that led to the Peverell cemetery. Harry had been surprised, until he realized this was the village cemetery and the Peverells themselves were interred in the mausoleum below the Keep. 

As he flies over scrubby forests, the remains of overgrown fields, which give way to heavier forest and then again to solitary trees dotting the sides of a ridge of mountains, sometimes Harry wonders how muggles reconcile the chopped up geography of England. He knows his estate is unplottable and hidden entirely from Muggles and has been for centuries, and assumes many more vast estates are similarly hidden.

Perched on a flat plateau on the side of the mountain Harry sees his first goal. A standing circle. As Harry guides the broom around the circle he amended himself, a falling down circle, really. Not as big as the Great Circle at Stonehenge but still more than big enough for his research.

Harry lands the broom gently, outside the overgrown ditch circling the stones. He walks slowly onto the flat grassy area. Here the grass is merely knee high. Around him several of the stones have tipped but only two have fallen. He can feel the eddys of magic in the air. Repairing this entirely will have to wait til the summer solstice, nearly a year away. Harry knelt before the flat stone in the center, still clean and smooth, and lay his hands on it. The magic rose to him like a kitten wanting to be stroked.

The stone is rooted deep in the ground and even now, without its true capacity, Harry can feel the great current of magic buried in the earth, as the currents of magnetism float in the air. Dark magic, earth magic. That is where wizardry comes from, and it was as vital to the earth itself as it was to wizards.

Without the wizards to spur it on and add to it the great field of magic would dwindle away. With no magic, the very electromagnetic currents of the earth would falter and fail. That was the fate of his world, the one he had left behind. Day by day, with so few wizards left after the wars the magic seeped away.

Harry pushed the bleak thoughts from his mind.

It was not going to happen. If he had to stun every wizard and keep them in an endless sleep to keep the magic alive, that is what he would do. Harry refused to let the earth die again. He fleetingly thought that it was likely that seeing his entire planet and species die probably hadn't done good things to his moral values. So be it.

Harry rose from the ground. Before he left the circle, he used his belt knife to cut his left palm over the life line and offered three drops of blood to the earth. After he had mounted his broom and left, a small red flower sprang from the ground, its petals bouncing merrily in the breeze.

As Harry followed the leylines down the mountain he finally encountered the edges of his properties. He could feel the edges of the wards, like lines drawn in air. Outside the wards is an area of empty land but even here, not much further off he can see the scattering of muggle roads and buildings. Harry’s lip curled. Muggles. Messy creatures.

Harry turned the broom and followed the line of the wards widdershins. Mountains and forest and meadows. He saw a flashing of white and dropped the broom lower. He was surprised and glad to see a small group of unicorns near a narrow meadow brook. 'Magical animals already here, that’s a good sign.' he thought, pleased. 

It was late in the day when Harry came within sight of Peverell Keep again. As he did, a small group of owls darted away from the castle and surrounded him, clacking their beaks. Laughing he circled and came in for a landing on the back courtyard where Charlus was impatiently waiting.

“Harry! Where have you been? I've been waiting half the afternoon.” Charlus cried before Harry had even dismounted

“Walking the bounds dear cousin. Well, flying the bounds at least. “ Harry dismounted and swung the broom up onto his shoulder. He was windburned and he had to confess a little chaffed in the saddle regions, but he hadn't felt this great in years. He had forgotten how much he loved to fly.

“And you were wrong; only two circles, a greater and a lesser. The lesser is just over the rise, I think it was the family chapel more or less.”

“No time to chatter old man, I and therefore you, are having supper at Hogwarts tonight!”

Harry is surprised. “I what?” he blurted as Charlus all but dragged him through the hall past the kitchen. He could smell fresh bread being baked. You had to love house-elves. Drop them in a falling down hovel with two sticks to rub together and they’d have dinner done by seven.

“Well if you had gotten my owl this morning when I sent it, instead of flying around the countryside all day, then you would know. C'mon, wash! Dress! The upstairs maid has your robes set out all ready.” Charlus pushed Harry in the direction of the sweeping wooden stairs that lead to the first floor of the keep and Harry’s rooms.

In the month that Harry had been at Peverell Keep, Charlus had only visited twice. Mind you both times Harry felt like he'd just escaped a whirling dervish. But he supposed, that’s how relatives you don't mind are. You love to see them, but can not wait until they leave.

Harry rushed through a quick bath and used a spell to dry his now respectably waist length hair. As a Lord and a Headmaster, mid back was the shortest he could possibly get away with and be respected by old purebloods. Muggleborns never understood that … but then, to them long hair was a chore and an ornament for women. They didn't understand that to a wizard, long hair was a sign of a powerful magical core, as the stronger the magic, the faster the body healed and the hair grew.

Harry contemplated the robes Charlus had ordered laid out. Not just formal robes, but the full on Headmasters robes, with his lordship chain and the mantle with colored edgings indicating his masteries. So a full on political do at Hogwarts. Lovely. And here he'd been thinking about relaxing in the bath with a book and maybe some numbing potion.

Harry swept down the stairs, tall pointed hat in hand.

“I say Harry. You do clean up well.” Charlus said, as he stared up at him.

Harry paused on the steps. “The robes I can accept, the mantle I can accept. But the pointy hat I don’t think I can manage without hurting someone with it. Possibly you.”

Charlus laughs. Harry has noticed he is holding his hat as well.

“Well the good news is you have to wear it for about five minutes. Then the house elves whisk them away. The rest though, you have to bear for the whole visit. And we should hurry, it would be terribly rude to miss the sorting feast.”

“We've been invited to the Sorting?” Harry raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t realized it was that late already.

“Indeed. One of those owls has an invitation from the Headmaster, to the Headmaster of Ambrosius. He wishes to discuss the fate of the orphans enrolled at his school.”

By now the house elves have caught and relieved the owls of their letters. The poor birds must have been chasing Harry around the property all afternoon trying to make their deliveries. An elf brought Harry the letters on a small silver tray. He ignored most of them and went straight for the letter tied with a purple and black ribbon and marked with the Hogwarts seal.

As they walked through the large hall to the door Harry glanced through the letter.

“Well as you say cousin, Dippet invites us to attend the sorting feast and be introduced to the students. Well this should be an interesting evening.”

Harry tucked the letter in an inside robe pocket. He quickly checked to make sure he has everything .. money pouch, belt knife, potions supply case, wand, second wand, knife down a boot, shrunken sword, floo powder. 'Well that’s probably enough to be going on with' he thought.

“Oh Charlus, visitors gift? I haven’t the faintest idea of protocol between headmasters.”

“Gift for the castle, a book or small historical item would do and a bottle of Potter vino supplied by me in your name. I picked out one of your collection of old stone plates,with the Peverell crest on it and shrank it for you.”, Charlus hands him the now dollhouse sized platter. 

Thus supplied they strolled outside to the private apparation courtyard. The wards inside are blocked from aparration by any but Harry or another direct Peverell. The second layer of wards blocked almost everyone else and public aparration was to the village circle only. The ancient Peverells, it seemed, were very serious about their security.

“Need a side along old man?” Charlus asks.

“Technically not, but for the sake of appearances, yes. After all, Harry Peverell has never been to Hogwarts”

Harry stretched out his right hand and Charlus laid his right hand on it, as they turn and apparrate away. They appeared at Hogwarts a moment later with a pop.

Charlus had apparated them just outside Hogwarts' main gates. They have a few minutes walk as they traveled up the hill to the main door. Harry is surprised and unsurprised ... Hogwarts looks very much like it did when he was here as a child. Since that was only fifty years away, and Hogwarts a very magical castle, it should not be surprising.

But since his last memories of Hogwarts were of the faded old ruins left after the magic had leaked away; he is shocked and gladdened to see it shining brightly on its hill... On the lake below them they could see the lanterns of the First Years gathering on the far lake shore.

“Hurry up Harry, we should just beat the students in.” Charlus walked faster

The great gates are open, as always. Harry pauses as he steps inside Hogwarts. The castles inner wards gently enfolded him. He has a sudden, strong feeling of home and pushes down the distraction.

“Lord Potter! There you are!” A slender old wizard emerged from the passage way leading the to Great Hall.

“I don’t mean to rush you, but if we step lively this way, we can shelter in this conference room until the stampede has passed.” Dippet guided them into a small room just to the side of the Great Hall. Sure enough it has a large table and several chairs. 

“My apologies that we arrived so late Headmaster” Charlus began

Harry interrupted “Actually it was my fault entirely Headmaster. I was out on the grounds all day and none of the owls found me until after he had, barely a half hour ago.”

Headmaster Dippet chuckled. “Oh I'm not offended Headmaster! After all I responded to your cousins letter weeks late as it was for exactly the same reason. Running a school, even one as established as Hogwarts takes more time than any three people have at hand.”

Harry smiles at Headmaster Dippet as he leans against the conference table. He can hear the chatter of childish voices outside. It was hard to take exception to Dippet, but Harry reminded himself, that this man is the one who allowed Dumbledore to start shaping the Slytherin vs Gryffindor hatred and to leave orphans like Riddle in muggle orphanages. Wizard fighting wizard is the last thing Harry wants for his world.

“We will have to speak more after the feast, but quickly now Headmaster Peverell.”, Dippet turns a serious face to Harry.

“You intend to take in magical orphans, correct? Regardless of parentage and other standings?” Dippet asked.

“Yes of course Headmaster.” Harry answered letting his voice be almost shocked and entirely questioning.

“I have several students currently enrolled at Hogwarts who are in the muggle child care system. It has preyed on my mind, if you could take them in I think all parties would be most grateful. Not now of course” Headmaster Dippet continued “But certainly at the end of the year and holidays as usual, and you can stand as their magical guardian while they are here at Hogwarts.”

Harry is delighted.

“Of course Headmaster. I presume many of them are on scholarship?”

“Yes. But of course as wards of a Sanctuary we will waive their tuition Headmaster Peverell, as long as you are certain you can handle clothing, school supplies and so forth?”

“That is certainly not an issue.”

“Lovely! Lovely … and also …. you intend to take in muggleborn children as well?”, Dippet queried.

“Of course Headmaster, magical children need to have long term contact with a magic rich environment so that their magical core develops properly, everyone knows that. If a muggleborn's parents cannot take care of their child, of course Ambrosius will help.”

Dippet waves away his concerns “ Oh I know that and you know that but the Ministry never listens. 'children need to be with their parents' Well frankly not all of them. The poor things... some of what I've seen Muggles do.” He shakes his head sadly.

“But with no place to send muggleborn children that was the best we could manage. I tell you Guardian, my staff and I were very happy to hear of your Sanctuary. “, Dippet paused.

“And as to that matter we would like to ask you to take over the oversight of all our muggleborn and orphaned students, both current students and the ones on the List. That includes removing them from unsuitable situations at your own judgment.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Are you certain the Board of Governors would approve?”

Dippet chuckles. “Of course dear boy! It was their idea. But I agreed wholeheartedly, yes most whole heartedly.”

“Well then Headmaster, I will be more than happy to stand as Guardian for these children. I will need to arrange meetings...”   
Dippet nodded, “...and see their health and school records.”

“Of course , of course. I'll have all the paperwork sent over in the morning. In the meantime, I think its time for us to enter the Great Hall. I can make the announcement and your introduction then Headmaster, I trust?”

Harry bowed and agreed.

Dippet led the way out of the room, and Harry darted a glance at Charlus, who gave him an enthusiastic grin and then wiped his face expressionless again. Charlus was enjoying this plot so much, Harry almost felt sorry for Dumbledore. Apparently stealing Harry’s birthright was going to have unforeseen consequences, Harry couldn’t wait.

Harry had forgotten exactly how loud a large stone room full of teenagers could be. He muttered a fast muffling spell at himself, to the amusement of the Headmaster.

Dippet leaned in towards Potter “I keep one of those on my robes. Only way to hear oneself above the din.”

The students hush as the Headmaster and his unexpected guests enter the Great Hall. Some of them recognize Lord Potter, Harry can guess by the whispers. Gryffindor house is the loudest of course, as always.

Dippet led them round the great teachers table on the dais. Harry passed a very young Flitwick, a live and breathing Binns and several professors he did not recognize in the slightest. At the end of the table he sees an already portly but less gray Slughorn.

Charlus took the empty chair to the furthest right of the headmaster, and Harry was motioned to he chair directly next to Headmaster Dippets, which was identical in design to Dippets, although upholstered in the pale green and black of Peverell House as a sign of respect.

“Good evening students and Welcome to Hogwarts!”

The children cheered loudly and it is a few moments before there is quiet.

“After the new students are brought in I have a few announcements before the sorting, so please hold your curiosity for a moment” beamed Dippet.

The large doors of the great hall swung open and a still ruddy haired Professor Dumbledore led the students in. To Harry’s eye they looked tiny. Was he ever so small?

Albus motioned for the students to stay and he stands in front of the teachers table.

“Thank you professor Dumbledore.” Said Dippet.

“Dear students. Welcome all to Hogwarts.” another pause for the noise. “I am very pleased to introduce my fellow Headmaster of the Ambrosius School and the Guardian of the Ambrosius Sanctuary for Magical children, Lord Harold Peverell”

Harry bowed to the school, just enough to acknowledge them.

A mutter of whispered questions rustled among the students.

“For those of us who may not know, a Sanctuary such as Lord Peverell's cares not merely for orphans but for any magical child who asks for sanctuary, regardless of parentage or other situation. Lord Peverell will be taking over the care of such magic orphans as are enrolled in the school and will also in the future be looking after the interests of all our Muggleborns. He has asked to meet with all his prospective wards during the start of the school year, so some of you will have your chance to question him yourself personally later, or decline his Guardianship and continue as you have been; and now for the Sorting”

Dippet sat down and the rest of the teachers table followed. Harry is very satisfied. This was the perfect excuse for him to start filching orphans, squibs and muggleborns. And most importantly of all, one Thomas Riddle, now eight years old.


	2. Chapter 2

After the sorting Dippet led Harry and Charlus to the Headmasters office. The office looked a great deal like Harry had remembered it, a few less shiny gizmos and a few more books, a few less portraits. Dippet fussed over some last minute parchments on his desk, as Harry and Charlus made themselves comfortable on the overstuffed purple sofa by the fireplace.

Dippet tut tutted, and finally came over to join them holding a scroll in his hand.

“Well Headmaster Peverell, I think you have your first problem cases already. We have one missing third year muggleborn who didn't make the train, and three first years whose parents refused or did not answer their invitation letters.” Dippet handed Harry the parchment.

“Not that we can make them send their children to Hogwarts, but they have to learn magic someplace, so its your task, I think, to make sure that happens, eh?”

“Of course Headmaster Dippet. Don't you send a teacher out in those cases?” Harry asked, leaning forwards.

“Well yes, but frankly I think Albus has too kind a heart. Our number of muggleborns attending has dropped in the last few years, and there are many that graduate Hogwarts and leave the magical world entirely. Which is a tragedy. So if you could give them a talk, and well do whats necessary ….” Headmaster Dipper waves his hand vaguely. 

Harry had a feeling he is hinting at more than just pleasant conversation. Oddly enough Harry isn't all that bothered by the idea. Sure some muggles did well by wizarding children, but by and large they ranged from uncomfortable to murderous. Like asking sheep to raise a baby ostrich, just nothing in common.

“Well Headmaster,” Harry began.

“Armando, please.” Headmaster Dippet inserted.

“Well then just Harry for me, Armando” Harry smiled. “I think a firmer hand with the muggleborn parents may be needed. After all, what parent does not want their child happy and healthy? And I'm sure if they understood what a difference a magical environment does for the health of a magical child, they would be glad to send their children here. I think part of the problem is that the Muggle world and ours is so far separated now that the muggles think of us like .. like … fairytales. So of course they can't take it seriously.” Harry of course hardly believed a word he was saying. But frankly he'd say the sky was green if it meant keeping one more wizard alive and happy.

“I've heard some of that from the new children coming in. I hadn't thought it so bad, but in the last hundred years... “ Dippet shakes his head sadly.

“The muggle world has gone towards arts of machinery and chemistry, not the more subtle arts of magic and mind as we have. So of course, because they cannot see or measure our powers, we must not exist. Quod erus demonstratum and all that. That is the first hurdle.” Harry said. He and Hermione had debated many hours into the night about what had caused the shifts, both in wizarding society and in the power lines of the earth. Harry felt that muggle technology counted towards a lot of that in a number of ways.

“Headmaster Dippet, before my philosophical Cousin goes further...” Harry laughed and looked at Charlus.

Charlus removed the shrunken bottle of wine from his inner robe pocket. “A small gift to you Headmaster from the Potter and Peverell families.” Charlus tapped it with his wand and returned it to its normal size. It was a suitably dusty bottle with a hand drawn parchment label glued to it proudly bearing the potter coat of arms. Like most Ancient families, the Potters had a small vineyard for their own use.

Harry then reversed the shrinking spell and proferred the stoneware dish Charlus had chosen, “And a gift to Hogwarts from the Ambrosius Sanctuary.”

“Oh how lovely!” Dippet accepted the platter. “Is that the Peverell arms Harry?”

“Yes headmaster. As we've been rebuilding the outbuildings and village we've found all sorts of lost treasures. They had some very strong preservation charms then.” Harry thinks its not so much the charms, but the fact that the streams of magical power had been stronger and better tended six hundred years ago.

“Thestrals. How queer. You don't see those very often.” Dippet said, curiously running one withered finger across the glazed design.

“It's said that the three Peverell brothers, Ignotus, Cadmus and Antioch had some interest in the necromantic arts.” Harry explained.

“Ah. Well that explains it then. Now to business ...” Headmaster Dippet laid the platter down gently on a small table between the chairs.

Charlus and Harry listened to Headmaster Dippet attentively.

“I've asked the teachers to come to the staff room after the children are settled. You can speak some with them then, and arrange for meetings with your charges, and also get the measure of them as teachers.” Dippet shuffled his parchments.

“That sounds very well Armando. Can I ask how many children am I taking responsibility for?” Harry asked, thinking about what dorm space he had ready.

“Well of the ones currently enrolled we have three orphans in the muggle system. One half blood, two muggleborn. Then there are fifteen muggleborns in the various years, including our missing third year. And the muggleborns missing who had been on this years list.”

Charlus spoke up, “Headmaster Dippet, you may wish to give my cousin information for all of the muggleborns that haven't attended Hogwarts, who are still not yet of age. Might as well get them all at once instead of piecemeal.”

Dippet appears bemused, Harry can sympathize.

“You'll have to forgive my cousin. Lord Potter tends to think in terms of countries and entire cities ... perils of the Wizengamot I think.”

“Hardly Harry, I just think its best to be thorough. After all, wizards tend to come in families, eh? Where one brother is magical the next one will as well. Might as well check the lot, to be certain.”

“And for that matter Armando, you might as well add all the muggleborns or orphans in your book who aren't of age yet.” Charlus said. “Let Harry do a clean sweep now and he can pick up any new ones as they are found.”

“Gracious. Lord Potter, you seem to be heaping an awful lot onto Harry's shoulders.” Dippet peers anxiously over his glasses at Charlus and Harry.

“Honestly Armando, the Main Keep is in good repair, and my small army of farmers are putting the village to rights. So I think now is as good a time as any to start collecting my charges. Some of the household staff will be able to teach the basics, and I'm interviewing for long term teachers.”

Charlus broke in “And I'm loaning him some of the old teaching portraits from the Potter Manor. Not using them now anyways. And some other bachelors I know are sending you theirs as well Harry.”

“And when were you going to mention this cousin? As the house elves were hanging them?” Harry asked archly. Honestly, if Charlus was always like this, no wonder James left home as soon as possible.

“Well Harry, if you'd been home at lunchtime like a normal person instead of flitting about the countryside getting saddlesores ….” 

“Oh don't remind me Charlus. The numbing balm wore off somewhere between pudding and the first set of stairs.”


	3. Chapter 3

Harry banged again at the door. He was wearing a perfectly respectable dark gray suit, with a perfectly normal black umbrella in his hand. He was standing on the stoop of a perfectly normal and respectable brick muggle house on the outskirts of some entirely boring little factory town in the armpit of Cumbria someplace. Harry felt itchy already. The only unusual note was his Peverell ring and a very discrete Peverell crest on his tie, thestrals and all.

The two story house wasn't all that big. It had a miniscule postage stamp of fenced yard out front and was cheek by jowl with the neighboring houses. Rusting iron railings lined the stoop, and the black paint on the front door was peeling round the edges. Altogether not a well kept house.

Harry could dimly hear thumping inside. The door opened slowly.

“I'm sorry sir I was ….” a boy started to say and trailed off. He was staring directly at Harry's tie.

“Sir? Are you from … the school?” The boy asked, voice full of hope.

“Good morning. Henry Waldecott I presume? Yes Headmaster Dippet has sent me to look in on you.” Harry smiled.

“Won't you please come in sir.” the boy said and backed away from the door so Harry could pass.

Harry followed the boy into the house. The smell of stale smoke and boiled cabbage was nearly overwhelming. The family was definitely not well off. Harry started to get an idea of what might possibly be the problem.

Henry leads Harry into a small sitting room. It was inhabited by a whip thin old woman. Her mouth was pursed up like she had just bitten a lemon. She had a rosary in her hands. 'Or maybe this is the problem' he thought.

“Good morning Ma'am. I am Headmaster Peverell and I've been asked to have a look in on young Henry here.” Harry started pleasantly enough.

“Henry will be going to St Augustus School for boys.” Even the woman’s voice was sour.

“I told you Agatha, Henry is going back to Hogwarts just as soon as I can get to the post.”, a man called from the stairs. When Harry looked, a heavyset man was halfway down the stairs, leaning heavily on the wall. Harry leapt to support him the rest of the way down. The man was wearing pajamas and had the telltale bulges of bandages underneath.

“Are you injured Mr Waldecott?” Harry asked as he guided the man to the closest chair.

“Appendicitis. Been flat on my back for a month now, and no end in sight. Infection you know. Terrible timing, with the factory just letting everyone go and now this. Its tough times Mr ...”

“Headmaster Peverell of the Ambrosius Sanctuary. Headmaster Dippit has asked me to look in on Henry and some other students on Hogwarts behalf.” Harry explained.

“I told you Willard that Henry will not be going to that expensive foolish school any longer. I have enrolled him at St Augustus.” Agatha bit out, voice thin with disapproval.

“All due respect Madam, but I don't think you have any say in this matter.” Harry corrects in as calm a voice as he can muster. His magic is starting to rise about him in snaps and crackles. Henry smooths down his arms and shifts nervously, where he stood by the archway into the other room.

Willard looked directly at Harry. “As much as times are tough, I understand that Henry needs the schooling at Hogwarts for everyone to be safe.”

“That is true.” Harry agreed.

“So as long as Hogwarts understands that as soon as I may, the tuition will be paid in.”

Harry blinked. “Didn't Professor Dumbledore explain?”

Willard frowned. Although his heavy moustache and square red face remind Harry of his happily long dead Uncle Vernon, this mans face is drawn and haggard from long illness.

“I've never spoken to a Professor Dumbledore. We had a Professor Slughorn here three years back when he got his letter first time. Talkative fellow.” The man was puzzled.

“Well then I expect something got mixed up. Professor Dumbledore was supposed to have informed you that your scholarship application went through and that tuition plus an allowance for materials is entirely covered.” Harry was seething to himself. He can bet exactly what happened. Dumbledore, that old fraud. The only question now was did he just not tell the Waldecotts, or did he pocket the money into the bargain.

Aunt Agatha took a deep breath in preparation to start screaming again and Harry just couldn’t stand it any longer. He flicked his arm at her, causing his wand to slid from the holster down his sleeve into his hand and muttered 'silencio'. Her mouth started to move and then she stopped, clutching at her soundless throat.

“Beg pardon Madam, but I've five more students to see to today and no time to waste.” Harry smiled at her as pleasantly as a shark. She shrank back in her chair.

“Now young Mr Waldecott, if you will do me the favour of packing as quickly as possible, I can take you along with me and deliver you to Headmaster Dippet by the end of the day. Your classmates I'm told, are taking notes for you.” Harry addressed the young boy, who beamed in return and scampered away up the stairs.

“Now Mr. Waldecott, what is the matter with you? I might be able to help.” Harry said to the boys father.

“Appendicitis with complications and complications I'm told. Still sick as a dog and the moneys running out. My sister Agatha volunteered to come and do for us until I was back on my feet again but its dragged on a bit. I don't think you can do much sir, I'm told your magics don't do well on regular people.” The man explained. Shifting uncomfortably in the chair.

“That depends on a great many things. If you could hold this for a moment that will help me know what options I can use to heal you.” Harry leans forward, and gives Mr Waldecott a small stone from his bag. When the man closes his hand around it the stone glows a soft blue.

“Well Mr Waldecott, I presume Professor Slughorn explained what wizards and muggles are correct? And that sometimes a wizard is born to muggle parents?” Harry smiled.

“Yes he did go on a bit about that. Hard to believe, our Henry a wizard.”

“Well not all wizards are strong enough to do great magics and there are many who have such low magical power that they can never cast any enchantments. But they still have a magical core and are capable of certain things. And one of them I am glad to say is making and using most potions. These are called squibs by the way, but I prefer low magic wizards and witches.” Harry explained.

“Well I'll be. Does this glow mean I'm one of those squibs?”

“Yes indeed Mr Waldecott. I've been researching the origins of muggleborns and I have found in almost all cases the child has at least one parent or grandparent who is a low level wizard. So low that they never had any detectable incidents of accidental magic, which is how most muggleborn are found. What it does mean for you sir is two things.” Harry paused and retrieved the stone.

“For one thing you should be able to use any standard healing potion.” Harry said and fetched one out from his shrunken potions box. 

“And secondly, since it is just you, a squib, and your wizard son, I can offer you a job and a place in a wizard and squib village at Peverell Keep. We're rebuilding the entire Keep and Village for the Sanctuary and I need every man I can hire.”

“A job?” The man is bewildered.

Harry expanded the potion bottle. “Now you want to take that in one swig and I'll warn you it tastes horrid. No alcohol for at least an hour afterwards.”

Mr Waldecott swigged the potion and made the expected horrified face. “Headmaster that is without a doubt one of the worst things I've ever tasted, barring my first cabbage soup.”

Harry smiled “I know, most potions aren’t much better. Unfortunately altering the ingredients can make a potion malfunction, so mostly we bear it. So are you interested in the work?”

“Well Headmaster I don't know as how I'll be much use to you, I was a stonemason by trade afore I started at the factory as a foreman.” Mr Waldecott muttered.

“A stonemason? How perfect! I did mention I have an entire castle to rebuild didn’t I? Stonework all over, a thousand years old and not touched in five hundred. You'll have your work set out for you. I have some masons already, mostly doing plain work at the moment to get the village together, but plenty of fancy work as well. And of course everything else, plain carpentry and fancy, bit of glass work. Everything needs doing. We can do a lot with magic, but magic over real craftsmanship is best.”

Henry came rattling down the stairs, dressed in plain white shirt and black pants with his Ravenclaw robe and tie over his arm.   
“My chest is at the top of the steps Headmaster.” He said breathlessly, “and I have my familiar in my pocket.”

Harry raised an eyebrow.

“Peepicheek .. he's an African pygmy dormouse that my friend Zabini gave me my first year. See?” Henry fished his familiar out from his shirt pocket, and sure enough it was a tiny long-tailed mouse with giant ears and wide shiny black eyes. It curled up happily in the boys palm, barely bigger than a plum.

Harry leaned forward. “I think that’s the smallest familiar I've ever seen. Lovely species.”

“I've been researching detection and scrying charms and Peep is an excellent focus .. he gets into everything if you let him.”

Harry chuckled “Spoken like a Ravenclaw. You can put your robe and tie on. I have to go speak to the families of three first years who haven’t responded, so it would be a great help if you could speak to the children as well.”

Henry is thrilled to be asked to do something so responsible and adult “Of course sir!” as he struggled into his tie.

“Come here my boy, let me help you with that.” Willard said. “Sir? Can you show my son that stone?”

Harry smiled and dropped the stone into Willards hand again.

“Father? That's a core detection stone” Henry asked, looking at the glowing blue stone quizzically.

“Well son it seems that I'm not a muggle. I'm a squib. A low level wizard.”

Henry looked at his father with wide brown eyes. “A squib? How? Does that mean I'm really a halfblood?”

“I'll explain later Henry, but what it means for now is that I've given your father a healing potion so even with his low magic levels he should be fine in another day or so. And, I've hired him to come live and work at Peverell Keep. I need stonemasons desperately, and I think you'd enjoy living in a magical village.”

Henry was nearly beside himself with happiness and launched himself at his father.

After a long tearful farewell, watched by a silently enraged Aunt Agatha, Harry and Henry left the house to catch the Knight bus to his next destination. Willard had directions to the Leaky Cauldron so he could post letters to Harry when he was ready to move.

A long afternoon later and Harry was leading a string of two girls and two more boys in addition to Henry. The new additions are all first years wearing regular Muggle clothes. After the last one Harry will take all of them to Diagon Alley for a fast shopping trip and then hopefully be at Hogwarts by suppertime. He felt much like a large gray mother duck with his little line of short students with Henry at the back following him on and off the Knight bus.

One more to go and Harry is actually feeling nearly cheerful. Apparently Albus had either not spoken to the parents of the last few at all, or had been entirely unconvincing since all it took Harry was a quick demonstration of the spells allowed by the Ministry and the excited commentary of young Henry plus a few glances at his schoolbooks.

The address of the last student was in a small, brand new tract of tiny houses on the outskirts of London. Once glance at the house gave Harry a bad feeling so he led his flock of students to a small cafe nearby. A quick word with the proprietor and a few pounds and he left his students under Henry's supervision enjoying juice while he went to speak to the next set of parents.

Not long after, as he ducked a meaty red fist aimed at his face, he decided that had been a lovely idea. Students along would mean he had to behave. A fast muttered incantation later and the large man was slumped to the floor of the hallway. Harry estimates he has ten minutes before Aurors show up after detecting the spell that he didn’t have permission to use, so he started searching the house quickly. No sign of the last child, one Alex Worthington.

“Alex?” he called. “Alex I'm from your school, are you here?”

Still no response, so Harry climbed to the first floor. Two tiny bedrooms and an equally tiny bath. No boy. The smaller bedroom, with two small beds, was suspiciously bare. Harry ducked down the stairs. Would a house like this have a basement? Harry looked for a door and found one in the kitchen, securely bolted top and bottom and with a large padlocked chain looped through the handle. A very bad sign that.

“Alex?”, he called through the crack of the door.

He got no answer, but as he stood quietly he suddenly heard a rattle and thump from below. Harry stood back from the door and with a quick 'alohamora' the locks popped open and the chain slithered to the floor.

Harry darted down the stairs as the front doors opened.

What he saw made his blood boil. Directly opposite the bottom of the stairs was a small child, the arms chained above the head, wearing a shirt torn to rags. Blood streamed down its back and legs from the whipped raw wounds. Facing Harry was a boy, older, and with his arms secured to the same rafter as his sibling. He had a makeshift gag jammed in his mouth. His eyes were wild and panicked.

“Relashio”, Harry mutters and leapt forward to catch the wounded child.

“He killed her!”, the boy whispered as loudly as he could manage, once he had spat the untied gag out

Harry looked at the second child, his heart sinking, but he can see her stick thin chest moving.

“Not her sir, our mum!” the boy pointed towards the wall behind the stairs and burst into tears, clutching his sister.

And sure enough, in a crumpled heap on the other side of the room was a woman. She was naked, but almost every square inch of her skin is covered with bruises, burns cuts or blood. Harry could see crosses carved into her flesh and fragments of words. He crossed the room quickly and turned her over. His blood ran cold. There, carefully drawn on her chest was the word FREAK. The next few minutes turned into a blur of dark, light and flashes of spells.

“Finite incantatum”, an unfamiliar voice finished saying. Harry sat bolt upright feeling for his wand a curse already on his lips

“Guardian! Guardian its safe!”, hands held him still and Harry stopped long enough to gather his wits.

He was being steadied by a Healer. They were in the small sitting room of the Worthington house, where he had stunned the boys' father. There was a patch of blood on the carpet. Harry suddenly had a sinking feeling.

“Guardian Peverell?”

“Yes healer. I'm sorry, I'm a little … what happened?” Harry asked. 'Blast and damnation.' this was going to cause trouble.

“The Ministry detected Stupefy cast here and sent Aurors. When the Aurors arrived they saw a man, you, go down the stairs to the basement. They found a stunned muggle up here. Then moments later you burst out of the basement.”

“Oh dear, I think I may have … lost my temper. The child, is she ok?” Harry asked, worried.

“Yes, she's been taken right to St. Mungos and her brother. Should be fixed up in a jiffy. Their mum though...” He shook his head. “Terrible what that man did.”

“I take it the aurors stunned me? “

“Yes sir, but not until after you took out two of them and um, Well, made a bit of a mess sir. The third auror got a stupefy on you through the window. You took down the section chief sir, very nice spellwork.”, the healer said with a grim smile.

“Did I kill the muggle?”, Harry asked rubbing his hand wearily over his face.

“Not quite sir. But the Aurors won't be pressing charges, considering the state of those poor children.”, the Healer told Harry.

“Of course not!”, barked a voice from the door. It was the same Auror that came to question Harry when he first woke. “Completely understandable. Rogue muggle goes mad, kills a witch and tortures their children. He's lucky I don't 'aufero' him myself. Mind you, if you hadn’t shot out of the stairs like a bludger we wouldn’t have fired at you. You've yourself to blame for that one” The old auror related, walking stiffly into the room.

“I'm very sorry if I hurt you sir. I ... wasn't quite myself I'm afraid.” Harry apologized.

“Oh no worries Peverell. Does me good to have a bit of excitement now and then. Teach me to go out in the field more often.” He barked with laughter. “Next time maybe I'll learn to duck. Its been years since anyone’s got me with a stunner.”

“The Obliviators will be here in a bit to tidy up. You'll take guardianship of the children?”

“Of course Auror...”

“... Moody. Chief Auror Moody.” He gives Harry a hand up from the floor. Somehow Harry is not very surprised. It must be old Alastors father, should have known he'd be an auror as well.

“Splendid! Then they can wipe the children from the fathers mind entirely, and we'll tip the local bobbies off so they can come and find the father red handed over his murdered wife.” Moody said, leading Harry outside. “Nice and tidy, no loose ends.”

“Frankly my boy, if you want to just come and whisk away some of these children from the muggles, nobody will say a word. Few quick obliviates and everyone’s the happier, my opinion.” He muttered, sotto voice to Harry. 

“I can send a man out with you, a Cousin of mine, very smart, very quiet, won't set off the alarms; keep everything ... tidy. Better for the children any rate.”

Harry just smiled and nodded. 'Was Auror Moody seriously telling him just to take all the muggleborns and go?'

“Oh dear, Auror I left some students waiting at a cafe.” Harry suddenly remembered. “Oh I'm a terrible headmaster.”

“Oh no worries. We found them already, sent the lot along to St. Mungos for checkups. Seemed best considering.” Moody said gruffly. “Didn't think it was a good idea to apparate you though, no telling how you’d react on landing and Mungos frowns on spellwork in front of their door.” He elbowed Harry hard in the ribs, chuckling.

Harry chuckled ruefully. “I do tend to wake up a bit … anxious sometimes I'm afraid.”

“Oh don't we all. Potter told me about your record in the Proud over in America. Good bunch of aurors that, for colonists. We had some on training exchange a few years back.” 

Harry just nodded again. 'My what? Blasted Charlus embroidering things again'

Moody strode away from Harry, ordering people about. Although the lawn was crowded with robed wizards and witches, the muggles didn't notice a thing. Someone must have popped up a notice-me-not charm.

A pop of apparition and a healer reappeared with a man floating next to him. Harry recognized the abusive father and scowled.

“We put him back together as much as we could. Has some bruising and cuts but if we push him down the stairs it'll look natural enough for the muggles.” Healer Muntgo said.

“Ah Harry! I see you're drumming up business for us.” He addressed Harry, sending the unconscious muggle indoors with a flick of his wand. Nobody seemed to care about him banging off the door frame a bit.

“Just doing my job Healer Muntgo.” Harry said, flicking his wand and transfiguring his muggle suit back to robes.

“Well I'd better go collect my chicks. Thank you Auror, Healer. You can send an owl if you need anything, of course.” Harry said to Moody as he returned from commanding his minions.

“Well the Wizengamot will probably want to at least question you, but as you are a Lord its purely for the record. I'm sure Potter will let you know”, Healer Muntgo told him with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

Harry groaned. As they laughed he apparated away to St. Mungos.


	4. Chapter 4

Tom hated the orphanage. He hated everyone in it, every man and woman and child, even the little babies who screamed until they lost the strength and faded away like everyone else in the dim gray pit of misery. He hated the smell and the heat and the dim whitewashed walls and the ragged grey clothes. But most of all he hated Billy Stubbins.

Tom was, not hiding, he could respect himself that much. But staying carefully out of the way, tucked into a tight corner between the wall and the building and half behind a rosebush. If he was lucky the other boys, especially the bigger, stronger, Billy would forget he even existed.

It didn't always work. But it was better than nothing. Tom wouldn't have minded the other children if they had been more like him. Interested in more than just running and shouting and hitting each other. Tom never really saw the point.

Tom was quietly digging in the dirt for lack of anything else to occupy his busy mind when he saw a small movement. Just a wiggle under the loose stone in the wall. Then a small smooth head poked out and a quickly flickering tongue. The snake slid just an inch or two of itself out from the wall.

Tom looked at the snake. 'Greetings Sivvissn' Over the months he had been talking with the snake he had learned the proper greetings. Sivvissn was one of the few creatures he actually looked forward to seeing every day. Even at that he wouldn't let himself get too attached.

'Greetings speaker. Soon it will be the great sleep.' the snake replied

'I wish I could sleep away the winter like your people.' Tom said. He and Sivvissn had discussed winter hibernation before. The snake thought humans were weird for their wandering around in the cold and Tom thought the snakes habit of curling up in knot together and sleeping the winter away was much simpler.

Tom could hear adult voices getting closer. He froze. Sometimes being still and thinking very hard made it keep people from seeing him.

“Well sir, I don't know exactly what you're looking for. But we have several very nice boys, well brought up and well spoken.” Mrs Cole said, sounding unusually sweet and nice. 

Tom groaned mentally. Great. Another toff looking for a Poor Unfortunate waif to look good with for a fortnight in the papers.

“Well madam, in addition to the list of names I gave you, I'm looking for children with certain qualities Boys and girls, any age. I'll know when I can test them. So if you could assemble them all?” The voice was definitely well educated, with the soft lilt of a gentleman, but not the affected London accent he was expecting.

“Oh of course Headmaster.” She gushed, and then blew the whistle

Tom raised his eyebrows. A headmaster looking for special children? Interesting. He raised himself to his feet.

'Can I see speaker?' asked Sivvissn

'Of course. Just curl up in my pocket quickly, and peek out when you wish' Tom whispered to the snake, and held his arm down for the snake to wind his way up and into his ragged jacket pocket. Sivvissn wasn't a very big snake, so he coiled up quite nicely.

Tom emerged from behind the bushes. Mrs Cole was bustling about getting the younger children to line up properly. The man stood, simply watching the children gather in the small dirt yard. Some autumn leaves had blown in over the wall, but mostly the ground was bare dirt and gravel with some patches of unhappy, heavily trodden nearly dead grass. But a bare yard was more than some orphanages have so Tom was happy for that much at least.

The man looked to be about thirty and had wavy black hair like a frenchman, all one length in back. He was wearing a Professors black robe with luxuriant white fur trim with gold piping and a red lined hood over his plain black suit and had very shiny black shoes. Tom thought he must be well off as well as well educated. Now the question is, what does he want children for? Tom reluctantly lined up with the other boys about his age, taking care to keep his distance from Stubbins.

“Children! Children!” Mrs Cole called, to gain their attention.

“This is Headmaster Peverell from the new Ambrosius School and Orphanage. The government is moving children from other orphanages to his. He is looking for special children who will also be attending his school.” Unspoken was her message of 'and he looks like he has money'.

“Thank you Madam Cole.” The mans voice was a smooth baritone, not too high, not too low with an almost a musical quality. 

“As I select you, please go inside to the tea room and I will come and speak to your further about the school you may choose to attend. The test is simple, and will not hurt.” The man smiled.

Tom was undecided. He had heard enough stories about the world outside the orphanage to be concerned. Sivvissn had told him of predators that liked to eat the young. And though humans might not eat each other, predators are all the same regardless.

The man started with the oldest children, to Toms right. He passed over all of them, even Billy Stubbins who puffed his chest out like a pigeon to look older and stronger. The man stopped at Jane Addison. Most girls got adopted faster than boys, but Jane was well .. plain was the nicest way to put it. Her eyes were a little too big and her forehead a little too heavy, and she was one of the tallest and most stocky children there even including the boys. Jane will probably be here forever, until she can get a position in trade waiting tables or something to support herself.

“Hold out your hand, child” the Headmaster said.

When Jane did so timidly, the man placed a small stone in her palm. It glowed a faint blue. “Very good. Inside Miss, I'll be along shortly.” the man smiled.

He continued along the line and stops in front of Tom. Tom looked up. He was tall for an eight, nearly nine year old, but still shorter than most adults. He can't wait to be bigger. Like all the children in the orphanage small amounts of poor quality food have made Tom skinnier and smaller than other children his age, but Tom still is better off than some of the other orphans. He had seen new children waste away to nothing on the thin gruel and watery stews that pass for food.

Tom held his hand out but the man shook his head.

“Thomas Marvolo Riddle. You can go straight in, you are on my list already.”

Tom was startled, to say the least. He supposed the man could have learnt his name from Mrs Cole. But list? What list? Tom was suspicious. But then Tom was suspicious of almost all adults. None of them have ever done more than they had to to help him.

'be careful speaker' Sivvissn whispered from his pocket. 

The man froze and looked down.

“Greetings wild one. I mean this youngling no harm” Headmaster Peverell said, his voice was smooth and silky in the snake language. The snake bobbed his head in surprise.

“Another speaker! How lovely. He speaks true speaker, he means you no harm.” Sivvissn hissed, agile tongue flickering at the air.

“You can speak to Sivvissn too?” Tom blurted out. He can speak to snakes? Like Tom? Maybe … ?

“Yes Tom, we are much alike. Inside, and I will explain.” He nodded his head towards the open door.

Tom moved inside nearly in a daze, his mind whirling frantically. A man from a special school, looking for orphans who were special. Tom could speak to snakes. He looked at Jane in a new light. If he could do that, what made Jane special?

“Tom?” Jane asked. She was perched uncertainly on a chair near the door, like she would bolt any second.

“He had my name on his list, he said. I don't know if he'll pick anyone else.” Tom sat down on the single sagging couch.

“Do you know why he picked you?” Jane said, wringing her hands nervously. “Did the stone light up for you too?”

“He didn’t give me the stone, just told me to come right in.” Tom wasn't sure he should mention his snake, better not, yet.

A pair of weedy strawberry blonde twin boys came in. They are fairly new to the orphanage, about seven years old, Tom seems to remember hearing about some kind of fire at their previous home. They haven’t spoken much to anyone and have kept to themselves. One of them cries a lot.

Headmaster Peverell followed them in holding a toddler. He closed the door carefully behind him, and then muttered something while gesturing at the door and window. Tom can feel ...something. He s suddenly very curious.

“Well children.” He smiled. “I am Lord Peverell, Guardian of the Ambrosius Sanctuary for Magical children.”

A thrill of unbearable excitement races through Toms very soul. 'Magic? Magic! Of course. Magic. That explained so much.'

“There is a great deal to explain about the world of magic and the proud wizard and witches of England. But that I think I has better explain later, in classes.”

“For now know this: Magic exists and wizards and witches have been using it for thousands of years. Most of us come from long bloodlines of wizards. But some children are found who have magic blood and are born to parents who seem entirely untalented. I am sworn to Magic itself as a Guardian to protect all magical children who need sanctuary. Hogwarts School, has asked me to look for all magical children born in the muggle world who are in their registry.”

“I have chosen you because you have magic. Some great like Thomas, who has already been accepted at the premier school for Magic in Britain, and some lesser talents like you Janet.” The headmaster nods towards Tom and Jane in turn.

Tom blushed hotly. No one had ever used great in connection with him except maybe 'in great trouble'. Jane blushed and squirmed in her seat, deeply embarrassed.

“What distinguishes a witch or wizard from a normal person is that we have a core, a source of magical energy within and they do not. Simple enough. So even a person who cannot light a fire with magic, still can have magic within them.”

“Out here in the muggle world the magical energy is very low. Just like you need food and water and vitamins to grow up healthy and strong, magical children also need magic to grow up as strong as they can be.”

Now a Sanctuary is just that, a sanctuary, a safe haven for you children. You can choose to look for magical parents to adopt you, or you can choose to stay under my guardianship until you reach the magical worlds legal age of twenty one. We will look for any existing magical relatives of yours first, as many low magical children come from old families that have been lost. But you can choose to stay at the Sanctuary, and even after in the village of Peverell Close and follow a trade.”

“Questions?” He folded his hands in his lap.

“We can stay t-together?” one of the twins asked, eyes wide.

“Of course. Twins share a unique magical bond, we would never separate you. Most wizarding twins stay in the same home their entire lives, and since the oldest wizard ever is six hundred years old, that can be a long time.”

Tom's eyebrows raised. Six hundred? Amazing!

'Sir? How old are you?” Jane asks timidly.

“I am sixty two. And a bit.” The man laughed, “but I've had so many odd spells cast on my it is hard to say.” He certainly doesn’t look like sixty, probably closer to thirty, even a young thirty. But there is something about the eyes.

Tom decided to be a little bit brave, just as a test. The man knows this already, so it is no lost secret for him. “Can many wizards speak to snakes?”

“No Thomas, its a very rare talent indeed called 'Parselmouth'. I received the ability through a magical accident, but you inherited yours from your mothers family.”

Jane exclaimed “That's why you always stay behind that bush near the wall! Do you talk to a snake there?”

Tom smiled triumphantly at her. “Yes.”

“That's wicked.” breathed one of the twins. “Brilliant!” said the other.

Lord Peverell smiled. “There are other talents that run in magical bloodlines. Healers, empaths, finders, other beast speakers... and of course for families who have married magical creatures those talents also show up sometimes in their descendant. One of my good friends while I was at school was half giant, and a kinder, gentler nine foot tall man you'd never meet.”

“So children. Do you wish to request Sanctuary?”

The others answered in a babble of voices.

Tom pondered this idea carefully. 'Magic. A lord, a rich man, means probably better food. Plus, a school, and schooling meant better jobs. Versus Madam Cole's orphanage which had bad or no food and no schooling but what lessons the staff could manage. Pfft. Who was he fooling?'

“Yes Headmaster Peverell. I would like to request Sanctuary.”  
A shimmer of gold magic bursts around Tom and Lord Peverell.

“Oh very good Thomas! I Lord Peverell, do offer Sanctuary and accept the guardianship of one Thomas Marvolo Riddle until such time as he comes of age or chooses to depart my care.” the gold sparkles again and dissolves.

“And that was a natural magical vow, nice and strong. Very unusual for any wizard your age Thomas.” Lord Peverell rose to his feet.

“Well I need to sign some papers for the Muggle government, and you children should pack your things and say your goodbyes. Thomas, the snake may come with you if he wishes.”

Later that day, Tom had seen the outsides and front halls of several more orphanages. Lord Peverells gaggle of children had increased by several more including one wonder struck teenage girl previously working as a maid at the orphanage she had grown up in, and several crying babes in arms. Jane bobbled one on her hip as she looked tiredly around her.

“Well children I'm sure you'll be glad to hear we are finally done with London’s orphanages. So now you get to learn something new. I've arranged to bring all of your back to the Sanctuary on the Knight Bus. All in a line now, here by the kerb. Ready?” and Lord Peverell waved his wand and muttered.

With a bang! A large purple double decker bus appeared from thin air and screeched to a halt in front of them. Several of the kids squeaked and jumped back. Tom flinched but restrained himself. 'Great. He was going to be great' he reminded himself, with a warm glow. 'and great wizards don't jump at buses. Peverell didn't jump.'

The door squeaked open “Evening your lordship!”

“Evening Johnson. Ready for a run to the Sanctuary?” Peverell stepped up half into the door of the bus. Tom could see the driver perched on a tall chair in front of the window. There were no obvious pedals, but it did still have a steering wheel. However, everything was made of handsome carved dark wood.

Magic. Tom grinned inwardly. 'amazing'

“Of course your lordship. I see you've found a good lot your first day.”

“Oh yes Johnson. Some very promising young wizards and witches.”

“Now children.” he turned and addressed them. “This is the Knight bus. There is a regular service with marked stops, including one at Peverell Close, which goes to all the magical villages and markets in Britain and one or two in muggle Britain as well. If you are ever lost or stranded, any adult wizard or witch can summon the bus by simply raising their wand. Now all on board children, and find a seat.”

The children climbed onto the bus, and Lord Peverell brought up the end after Tom. Once inside the bus Tom sees that it looks more like someones living room. There are any number of large squashy armchairs, and little tables with tinkly shaded lamps on them. One old woman, 'witch' Tom corrected himself, was drinking tea and absently reading a scroll, which obligingly rolled and unrolled itself.

Tom chose a large dark green wingback chair that faced a window near the front of the bus. The windows had heavy velvet curtains, encrusted with gold braid and tassels. No two curtains matched exactly. Tom wasn't entirely sure he liked the wild carnival look from all these colours, but this was still miles above the plain gray enamel metal interior of the one motor-bus he'd ever been on.

“All settled then milord? Any tea for the younguns?”

“Yes, if you please Johnson, its been a long day. Just a large tray for all of us, I'll be Mother and pour out.” Lord Peverell smiled wryly. The bus lurched into action.

“Agnes! Agnes! Full tray, cups for a crowd for His Lordship!” Johnson hollered as he guided the bus through the late afternoon London traffic.

The chairs the children were in all scooted into a rough circle, making one of the twins squeal in shock and then clap his hands over his mouth blushing. A larger table picked up its spindly legs and marched into the middle, arranging itself in front of the larger sofa that Peverell and the babies were ensconced upon.

Tom was learning to control his outward reactions of wonder and amazement … but still. 'Walking tables. Brilliant! And how handy.'

A heavy set older woman in a long skirt and apron bustled up from the back of the bus with a large tray. She expertly handled the bumps and sways of the bus without losing a drop of hot water.

“Afternoon your lordship. Welcome children!” she chirped and placed the large tray down on the table.

“Thank you Agnes.” The Headmaster said and with a simple wave of his wand raised the teapot.

'Sing out children, there’s cream, sugar and lemon for those that like it.” As the children tentatively asked for their tea, Tom watched as the wizard poured tea and measured in sugar and cream and then floated the cups to each child with effortless waves of his wand. All this and this is just tea. Tom was quickly lost thinking about what else you can do with magic.

“Thomas? Thomas?” 

Tom started. “Sorry Guardian, thinking. Just sugar please.” Tom accepted his tea. The cup was plain white china with a simple pattern of blue vines around the top edge. The tea was the best he's ever had and he burnt his tongue but didn't much care.

As the other children looked around them, or out the window and chatter. Tom was lost in thought, looking pensively into his teacup.

“Do you see anything?” Peverell asked.

Tom is startled. “See anything?”

“Some wizards have a talent for divination, telling the future. Tealeaves is one method as is scapulamancy, oneiromancy, scrying... I was always rubbish at it myself.”

“Oh no Sir. I don't see anything.” Tom looked again at his tea distrustfully. 'Hmmph. Reading tealeaves. How ..common.'

Peverell smiled. “I know its a lot to take in Thomas. The magical world can be very different for those raised by muggles.”

“It's just … different sir. I see what you can do and that makes me wonder, what else can you do? What can I do?”

“Well Thomas that’s a difficult question. There are some things that so far cannot be done, and some things that can that should not be done. But wizards are men like any other, and men do what they are not supposed to quite often I'm afraid.”

Tom was almost sort of liking Lord Peverell. So far he was the only adult willing to speak to Thomas like an intelligent person and not some half tamed wild animal. Though, considering most children, Tom could see their point.

“Why do you call me Thomas sir? Everyone has always called me Tom.” He has always hated the name honestly, Thomas is better, but still.

“Among the old families it is considered very rude to use nicknames or shorten a formal name, it is sort of … reducing or belittling the person. Its one thing for parents and children I suppose, but in polite company its not approved.”

“I don't much like Tom as a name. I've met a lot of Toms.” And how he hates anything common, and 'Tom' was common as dirt

Lord Peverell smiled faintly. “Well my name is Harold, but I had to suffer through a childhood as a Harry so I understand. When I enroll you in the sanctuary and school tomorrow you can choose to use another name though. I'd suggest one from your mothers family line, for continuity. But that’s up to you.”

“Oh. Well … for now .. Thomas is okay I guess.” Tom was startled. A new name? That had never occurred to him. A new name. Hmmm

“Do you know anything about my family sir? I mean my lineage?”

“A bit Thomas. I recognized your mothers surname at least. She was born Merope Gaunt, of the Gaunt line, which I'm sad to say has fallen on misfortune in recent generations. The Gaunt family is descended from Cadmus Peverell, as I am descended from Ignotus Peverell. So as you can see we are cousins of a sort. But then most old families are related that much at least.”

Tom stared at Lord Peverell. A cousin? Family? He had family.

“In fact once Headmaster Dippet gave me the list of orphans I checked it against my family tree just in case. Technically the Gaunt's allegiance falls under House Slytherin, not House Potter like my line of Peverells.”

At Toms inquiring look Peverell continued.

“It has to do with the traditional government of the magical world, which isn't all that much like the muggle world. For example we've never had a king. The closest is the Grand Mugwump of the Wizengamot, and even that is an elected position more or less. But that doesn’t much matter right now.

The Ancient and Noble Houses that are still around are Potter, Longbottom, Bones, Greengrass, and a handful of others. Then there are the four Great Houses, none of which are currently active, and they are Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Hogwarts school divides the student into school houses of those names, so technically all wizards and witches in Britain ally themselves to those four Houses at least a bit. And then of course all the lesser Houses, foreign ones and Families.”

The bus rattled to a bumpy stop.

“Peverell Close! Ambrosius School! Ambrosius Sanctuary! Next stop Badgers Drift!”

“Children!” Lord Peverell stood. He chivvied the group of excited children out of the bus before him. The three babies in their baskets floated along behind him. Tom preceded him out of the bus and stopped a few feet away to wait..

They are standing on a large flat stone paved area. There was some sort of symbol inlaid in it, but he can’t tell what it is from this angle. He could see a large open-sided building nearby, it has large fireplaces at both ends and several benches and tables. Not far away several people were getting down from the back of a large wagon with their bundles and going towards the bus. 

The were several small paths leading away from the circle. One wide road, that the wagon seemed to have come from, leading away through rolling fields. Another wide path lead up the hill and to what Tom can only call a castle.

“Welcome to Ambrosius Sanctuary and to my, and now your home, Peverell Keep.” Lord Peverell, gestured towards the castle.

A castle. A magic castle. Tom thinks about this and decides okay, fine. A magic castle it is. At this point he is in the mood to accept most anything. As long as he doesn't wake up from this amazing dream.

“Abzan, Sarly, Peekit” Harold called. Three small pops and three odd looking creatures appeared. The have long wiggly ears and large bulging eyes. Their grey skin is mostly covered by the miniature robes in dark green, and all of them are shorter than Tom.

“Take these babies up to the Healer please to get checked and settled in the nursery.”

“Yes lord Peverelly sir” the lead creature chirped. They carefully cradle the babies in their gangly arms and disappeared with a pop.

At the surprised murmur of the orphans Lord Peverell explained..

“House Elves. They are a form of magical creature that works as servants for many larger families. They are drawn to areas of magical power, like wizards homes. In fact they can't survive for long in the wild. So they work in exchange for the power around us. Wonderful, loyal creatures, house-elves, as long as they are treated with respect.”

'Come along' and he started to lead them up the wide road toward the castle.

It isn't all that far, but Tom is looking at everything around him. Most things look completely normal, as far as he knows. Being a city boy he hadn't seen much green stuff except in parks and rare visits to the country.

The castle was big, bigger than a city block at least and tall. It has towers piled on towers and linked with stubby bridges. The stonework was mostly old and gray with mossy patches, but in some places the stone was fresh and new. Most of the wood he could see looks new.

They approach an arch over the road. The pillars on each side are heavily carved with symbols that Tom did not understand. 

As each child passed through the arch, Lord Peverell stood with one hand on the arch and touched the child with his other hand. As he touched Tom he felt a snap and sparkle of something... 

“Wards Thomas”, Harold hissed to him, “To keep you safe”.


	5. Chapter 5

“Honestly Armando I'm concerned.” Harry said quietly.  
“I've spoken to a number of muggleborn's families and many of them had no idea about their scholarship funds, and never have. In some cases the nature of the school wasn't even mentioned and the student was struck from the rolls without further discussion.”

He leaned forward on one arm of the chair, gesturing with his teacup with the other hand.

“I wouldn't want to say anything about your teachers.... but I think with Grindlewald and everything that young Albus might have too much on his mind.” Harry is quite sure that it is nothing as simple as absent mindedness, but he has yet to figure out what the old coot is up to.

Headmaster Dippet tut tutted softly. “I admit I've been worried about him the last few years. He won't confide in me of course, but I know he took Grindlewalds turn to the black arts very badly.”

“Well of course” Harry said “Having a close friend turn like that is enough to make anyone doubt themselves. I'm just not sure he can be a fighter for the ministry, a teacher and a deputy headmaster all at the same time. After all I only have an even dozen children on hand right now and they are already work enough for six people.”

Armando laughed “I've often counted my lucky stars that we don't get them til they are eleven and have some sort of manners already.”

Harry only sighs in response, thinking of the magically repainted pink stone walls that have so far refused changing back.

“So Harry, you think I should assign a new deputy headmaster? “ Armando asked thoughtfully, tapping his fingers on the top of his heavy oak desk.

“I think its a very good idea. And probably someone should double check things for the last couple years, to make certain nothing else got forgotten like young Mister Waldecott's scholarship funds. How is he doing by the way?” Harry asked

“Waldecott? Oh yes the young Ravenclaw you fetched. He's doing very well. I understand you hired his father as a stonemason ?”

“Oh yes. He's very accomplished. The foreman has been teaching him some small charms and cantrips.”

“He's not a wizard surely?” Dippets eyebrows raised

“Not a strong enough wizard for Hogwarts, but he has a magical core sure enough. In a strong magical area like Peverell Close his magical ability is much improved. He can cast lumos and some other very low powered spells. More than enough to help with him work as a stonemason and to be able to use the floo and potions and such. Hes taken to living in a magical village very well.” he says as he takes a meditative sip of tea.

“I've actually taken to testing most of the children at the orphanages I'm visiting. I've found the three magical orphans on my list of course but also nine low magic children. One of whom if I'm any judge is part giant.” Harry said. Gloating inwardly. 'they may be low magic now, but give them time.', he thinks to himself.'

“I had wondered where you found a dozen orphans. But what will happen to them at eleven?” Armando asked.

“Well the high wizards come here. The rest will probably apprentice to a trade and continue with half day classes. I have half day classes running for the adult low wizards and werewolves in my service already.”

“What a wonderful idea, and homes in Peverell Close I suppose?”

“Oh not all of them, the farmers are doing their best but the fields have lain fallow a long time. In a few years there will be food enough to support a larger population. Most of the workers come in by floo or the Knight bus. Though I'm looking into buying some property in the muggle village on my border, for the ones more comfortable in muggle housing. And so Waldecott stops whinging about missing the cricket matches on the wireless.”, Harry grins.

“High wizards and low wizards. What a simple and accurate way to refer to them. So much nicer than squibs. I always thought that rather rude.”

“Well my research and experiences have led me to believe that what are often called squibs are simply wizards with either very weak cores, or with their magic … diminished in some way. I've started all my people on purification rituals every new or full moon depending. We've already had some very good results, like Waldecott.”

“The classic Circle purifications?” Armando's eyebrows raised.

“Yes, with some modifications. There is a Great Circle just a few minutes walk from the village. The purification seems to cleanse some of the disturbances muggle or creature blood can cause in the magical core.”

“Is this just your low wizards?”

“Oh no Armando.” Harry smiles “I request everyone attend at least six times a year, high and low regardless. New or full moon depending on whether they are light or dark of course. Our neutrals tend to alternate. The purification also helps with those pesky little issues us purebloods get.” Harry winks. Dippet smiles in return.

“I often think the decision of Headmaster Dumbledore, three headmasters ago, to remove the Great Circle here was a bad idea. Cutting the children off from expressing their religion like that seems harsh.”

Harry is startled. “There used to be a Great Circle here? I hadn't known that.” 

“Oh yes. Albus' great-great-great grandfather Percival Dumbledore had it removed. Said it tempted children to the Dark. Which is silly of course, its like saying you can be tempted to prefer men instead of women. Its just something you are born with, no matter how you fight or deny it. But in those days of course, like now, Dark wizards got a bad name.”

“Well,” said Harry consideringly, “If the board accepts, I'd be happy to look into setting up a Great Circle here at Hogwarts again. Any children coming from Peverell Keep of course will be raised with the classic traditions. I wouldn't want them to go a whole school term without purifying rituals and the celebrations of the seasons. I'm sure the Board will be understanding.”

A silvery chime sounds and Dippet looks at the clock. The large hands say 'Time for Board meeting'.

“Ah. It seem the meeting is ready. Headmaster?” he says rising to his feet.

“Headmaster” Harry says gravely and nods to Armando who grins cheekily.

“You'll forgive an old man his amusements.”

The school board met in a large room not far from the Headmasters office. Most of the officials flooed to Hogsmeade and walked up, or apparated to just outside the Hogwarts wards. Harry himself had apparated to the main gate, a privilege granted mainly to Aurors and Healers. In fact Harry's presence at the Hogwarts board meeting was a courtesy extended to him as the Headmaster and Guardian of Peverell sanctuary, since his charges would end up at Hogwarts eventually.

Currently in the room are Harry, Headmaster Dippet, Lord Damien Malfoy, the Deputy Minister Montgomery Gibbon, Lord Timorous Ogden and Lady Marie-Claire Longbottom, holding the chair for her ailing husband Osmond. One chair, for the Deputy Headmaster remains conspicuously empty.

“Well Dippet” Ogden boomed. “Lots of changes this year, what?” Lord Ogden is one of those large, solidly built square faced men who seems to say everything in a permanent shout.

“Yes Lord Tim. Young Peverell here has certainly switched things up for us.” Armando smiled at Harry, seated on the other side of the Headmaster from Albus' empty chair.

“Good show that! Haven't had a proper Sanctuary in Britain since the blasted Romans finally went home. M'wife already has the maids sewing up midwinter presents for the little nippers at the school.” Ogden thumped his hand on the table.

“I'd like to introduce Headmaster Harold Peverell, Headmaster and Guardian of the Ambrosius school and Sanctuary, for those of you who haven’t met him yet.”

Harry nods politely to the rest of the board, seated around the large shiny wood table. He knew most of the board by reputation, and Charlus' exhaustive briefings of course. Malfoy he would have recognized regardless, it seemed that pure platinum blonde hair bred remarkably true.

“As I mentioned in the letter I sent out, I have asked Peverell to handle all the muggleborn contacts for the school. After that mess with poor Worthington's family the Ministry has agreed that Peverell can remove any half or muggleborn child from the family if he has evidence of their mistreatment, without awaiting for the Ministry.”

Mr Gibbon nodded gravely. There was a murmur of interest from the other board members.

“I don't recall the details of the case”, Lady Longbottom asked delicately.

Harry grimly explained. “Headmaster Dippet asked me to look into the muggleborn students who had been sent letters this year, but had not answered. And for one, answered, but not arrived. Alex Worthington had been invited, but never answered.”

“Isn't Dumbledore supposed to contact them on the child's 11th birthday or in June before the term they'll be attending?”, Lady Longbottom asked.

“Yes he is and the list I was given indicated he had. The children however, said they knew nothing about it until their father dragged them to the basement and chained them up.” Harry paused to take a deep breath. “From what I understand he accused them of being spawned by the Devil, and beat the children to make the evil spirits leave them. He also tortured the woman in front of the children and eventually the beatings killed her.”

“Dear Merlin.” she breathed, horrified, raising one delicate hand to her mouth.

“Both children are at the Sanctuary. Alex is going to be held a year and attend Hogwarts next year as a first year. They are seeing mindhealers twice a week, and have recovered physically.”

“And the father?”, She asked in a voice of horror

“He was obliviated and the muggle authorities tipped off. They sentenced him to execution for killing his wife and they are still searching for the children.”

“Horrid muggles” Lord Ogden muttered in a thunderous whisper.

“Indeed my Lord. Most of my charges here at the school have done much better by their families. I have retrieved some orphans from muggle institutions. With proper tending they should be fine wizards and witches.”

“How did that happen Dippet? Albus is supposed to alert the aurors if there is a problem family”, Asked Lady Longbottom.

Armando simply looks saddened and examines his lists.

Lord Ogden boomed “Well its obvious isn't it. Albus isn't even here for this usual first month meeting, what makes you think he takes any of his other duties seriously? Too busy chasing after Grindlewald like always.”

Lord Malfoy finally chimes in. “Indeed, its disgraceful. Headmaster you may want to consider finding a new Deputy, one with less … weighty matters outside of school preying on his mind.”

“Headmaster, Gringotts and therefore the Minister is very concerned about the mislaid scholarship funds.” Mr Gibbon declared. “

“I'd hoped to ask him about that today, but as you can see”, Dippet started to gesture apologetically to the empty chair, as the door to the meeting room opened.

Dumbledore swept in majestically. His cheery greeting was met with frosty silence.

“Armando?”, he asked, blue eyes twinkling.

“Assistant Headmaster Dumbledore. I'm so glad you could attend”, Lord Malfoy stated in a voice redolent with silky menace.

 

“Indeed Dumbledore”, Boomed Lord Tim, “Ministry has some questions about the scholarships.”

“Headmaster Peverell has been so kind as to bring us up to date on his experiences with the muggle born children.” Headmaster indicated Harry, as Dumbledore took his chair.

Harry smiled genially at Dumbledore. 'And so we begin' he thought, bracing his mental shields.

An hour later after much shouting, several attempts by Dumbledore to break into Harry's mind, accusations of his unworthiness and so forth, Dumbledore had firmly been ousted as Deputy Headmaster and as Transfiguration Professor pending a full Gringotts audit of any account he'd ever had contact with. In the meantime Harry had, with a sense of justice, volunteered Charlus as the temporary Transfiguration teacher.

As they were leaving the board room Lord Tim motioned Harry into a corner.

“Peverell. I don't mean to be nosy, but he called you Dexter? Did you change your name?” He muttered.

“Yes Lord Ogden. When I was born I was given the name Dexter Potter, as an illegitimate son. When Charlus accepted me to the Potter family and awarded the Peverell title, he also changed my name to Harrison, or Harry for short.” Harry explained genially.

“I never understood that whole Dexter thing.” Lord Ogden seems honestly puzzled.

“Its a joke Lord Tim” Harry explained seriously. “Like calling a large man Tiny or a bald one Curly. Since Dexter means right in Latin, wizarding culture has decided that all children born on the left side of the blankets as it were, should be called Dexter.”

“left side … Dexter. I see!” Lord Tim boomed with laughter. Harry leaned back a tiny bit.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry looked out from the tall window of his office and sighed silently. As much as he would like to put it off, it was All Hallows Eve. All his various dead would need to be appeased, and this before joining the observance of the day first in Hogwarts and then Peverell close. A busy, sad day indeed.

Harry slid a loose robe of plain black silk over his under-robe topped with a thick black wool mantle and cloak. On his belt was only the ceremonial silver knife and his wand. He carried in his hands the tiny locked chest he had brought with him from the future.

Harry was lost in thought as he wound his way down through Peverell Keep. Through closed doors he could hear the piping of young voices at their lessons, the rustling of servants and house elves about their duties. As he passed portraits and tapestries the inhabitants nodded, bowed or curtsied.

The Keep was steadily being reclaimed. The orphanage was settled with classes and teachers and a handful of motherly squibs handling the dormitories for the various ages. The village was coming along, now with a smith and carpenter turning out materials to repair and build new houses and the population growing by leaps and bounds. Fields of rippling green winter wheat ringed the village. Even in the long overgrown potions garden there had been progress as Harry's latest recruit, a forcibly retired young auror with a fire curled foot and arm, did battle with the devils snare with an enchanted axe.

Harry passed through a heavy door and into the castle solarium, which he had converted to a hothouse for exotic plants. Dame Vergast nodded to him as he passed, with her clutch of students seated in a half circle in front of her as she extolled the attributes of the potted Buddhas Hand tree beside her.

Yes, Harry thought “A great many things had been started and were coming along well.”

Harry swept through the great entrance hall quickly. He hardly noted the small figure curled up near the fireplace on a padded bench reading, or when the same small figure followed him.

Harry made his way through the village quietly. His sober mien and clothing kept the villagers at a distance, though they still bobbed a curtsey or touched their forelock in respect. Harry still was getting used to it, but the 1930's still had a great deal of the class structure that was absent in more of modern Britain. And of course the magical world was still firmly settled in the hands of the nobility with no chance of being dislodged any time soon.

Harry stopped bolt still.

Nobility. Could that be it? The elusive key to Dumbledore’s pattern of favoritism and neglect?

Even months later they have yet to unravel exactly what happened to the scholarship funds. As far as they can tell the monies were dispersed, but some children received them and some didn't. Some were poor, some were rich, some were muggleborn, some half-born. Armando and Harry hadn't found a pattern …. but what if the neglected children had some noble birthright?

Harry had long known the Dumbledore had no Lordship to his name. Not even a title to a small holding like a Baron. Harry could remember the older Dumbledore giving no proper precedent to the noble children in his charge. Could it be a deliberate attempt to break down the class barriers? If so it was a daft one. If nothing else it was a slim clue to examine.

Harry was finally at the gates of the village cemetery. His stone workers had repaired the front wall and patched up the worst of the tip tilted stones inside but the heavy iron gates were at the smiths being repaired and the back and side walls still awaited work. Thankfully they had not had a reason to use the site yet. Harry absentmindedly touched wood for luck. Aside from a nasty fall from a barn roof, his people had only suffered minor cuts and bruises, all easily fixed by Dame Vergast, who had decided to join Peverell Close in charitable donation of her skills as a healer and potions maker. Apparently given a choice between that and staying at her Cousin Benedict’s house with his shrewish new wife, well …

Harry entered the grave yard. Some of the graves bore simple crosses, but the bulk of them were simple stone or alter-stones set in the ground carved with runes of protection and the name of the interred. Wizards, you see, knew very well what could be done with a corpse, or blood and bone and thus favored fire first of all. And then to salt and bury the ashes. So an entire family could use the same altar-stone for generations easily. 

Plain altars had been set up for new families already, the Weavers for example had a new stone, but the Carvers adopted the previous Carvers altar with no ill effect. Harry smiled wryly. Since some of his recruits had come from Charlus' estates much to his protests, there was every chance some of the families were actually related.

He mused that he should really have the children brought down here to help clear up and learn a bit of wizarding customs. Most of them had taken to the wizarding world like ducks to water, especially young Thomas. 

Harry neared the open area at the back of the graveyard. He had carefully cleared out the trees here and the ground was barren and flat for a large circular area, big enough to lay a dragon out flat from nose to tail.

Harry sighed, he really wasn't looking forward to this. But a promise was a promise.

Harry raised his wand and with a few incantations skinned the turf and dirt from the ground. A small pouch provided several bags of colored sands. Harry laid the plain white sand flat and then carefully started drawing in the nested circles in circles. The sun had nearly reached its highest point by the time he stopped, raising up from his crouch with a hand on his sore back. 

“Nobody ever said being a wizard was comfortable” he muttered to himself softly.

Harry slowly paced around the circle, wand raised. Judging it to be satisfactory he gestured , repeated it three times and then incanted Fuego! A blast of bright crimson fire coiled and flew from his wand, following the path he had taken and washed inwards over the circles drawn in sand. When it had passed, the surface was fused and glassy.

Harry cast a preserving spell. This circle should last some months, even into the coming winter. Possibly a bit of overkill, but considering his next step, necessary.

Harry stepped into the center of the circle. He could feel the heavy press of the ward on his skin and sparking along his ritual dagger.

He placed the tiny chest in the center of the circle and tapped it to enlarge it. Once, twice and three times until it was the size of a small desk. With the dagger he pricked his hand and carefully let three drops of blood on each of the three heavy locks on top of the chest.

When the last drop had fallen the heavy locks clicked open. Harry remained motionless as the carvings of snakes came to life and swirled lazily across the chest. They eventually formed a knot of serpents around the main lock. A hooded cobra rose out from the wooden surface, its carved teeth glistening. 

Harry held out his hand and gently placed a finger in the cobras mouth.

“Open”, he hissed in parseltongue. The snake bore down , not piercing the skin and he repeated it twice more.

Then the snakes withdrew and the heavy lid of the chest creaked open. A miasma of decay and the reek of a ruined world rose from the chest. Harry turned his head away and coughed. He had forgotten how it smelled. The despair, the pain , the death of a world.

The trunk had a tray fitted in the top. In each compartment of the tray was a tiny rolled up bundle, each one a tent. Each tent, harry knew, contained the last of a dying race or family. Many had not even survived to be folded by the tent into wizard space and thus preservation. But some few had. The question now, is how many had survived the transition to this new time all unknowing of their fate.

Harry started with the first tent. It was going to be a very long, very sad day.

Unbeknownst to Harry a small figure was watching from behind the graveyard wall. Intent gray eyes watched every motion and incantation with avid curiosity.

Harry lowered the last of the dead goblins into a long funeral pit. Fiendfyre would cleanse the ashes and the remains would be lain under a plain stone. So far he has found no survivors. The goblins, the handful of veela, the single ailing mer and her clutch of orphaned eggs. None had survived the failing of the magical currents in the old world. Tears run down Harry’s cheeks all unnoticed.

Harry destroyed the current tent and retrieves the next one. This one is plain leather and he sighs. He knows who was in this one. Harry enlarges and sets up the tent. The tent pegs dig into the ground and the ropes tighten themselves as the tent poles grow upwards and the tent erects itself. Harry waits for a moment, out of habit. 

As he steps towards the tent flap a hand pushes it open. Harry stops stock still.

The figure pushes away the leather, and a shining hoof plants itself firmly on the surface of the glass circle. The centaur pushes his way out of the tent, ducking to pass through the doorway. He stops when his barrel is halfway out and stops to look around him.

“Magus” he addressed Harry. “Have you succeeded in your task?”

Harry bitterly smiled “Only portions of it Hyppos. It is All Soul's Day, and a better day to mourn our world I could not choose.”

Hyppos inclined his golden head at Harry. Like most centaurs Harry has met, Hyppos is very sparing with his words. Harry had found him in Greece, where his herd were defending the dwindling remains of the Sacred Groves from the muggles who invaded the moment the ancient protective spells had failed.

Hyppos was golden and tan from the top of his curly blonde head to the tip of his creamy palomino tail. His coat, though dry and scruffy from lack of grooming, was the colour of fresh minted gold. He stepped forward out of the tent, planting all four hooves firmly on the ground.

“I can feel the magic, Magus. This is a strong land you have brought us to.”

“Welcome to Peverell Keep, the Ambrosius Sanctuary for Magical Beings. As I promised Hyppos.”

“I request Sanctuary for myself and my herd, Magus”

“Lord Peverell now Hyppos. Safer, and easier. I grant thee and thine Sanctuary. You can shelter at the keep if you would, and the deep forests if you prefer. There seem to be unicorns, but I have not found any other beings living here.”

Hyppos nods and turns back into the tent. Harry can hear quiet voices inside, muffled as if through great distance. Slowly a string of centaurs limps out. Some still bear wounds or illness. Harry starts to work healing those who need it the most, and passing out potions gladly. After the mornings sad results, this handful of centaurs has made it worth the heartbreak.

Hyppos emerges again from the tent, a limp figure held in his arms. Its is a gangly legged foal, her blue veined eyelids closed, her stick thin arms dangling. Wisps of blonde hair trail along Hyppos' arms.

“Is she... ?” Harry asks

“She may yet live Lord. The magic is stronger here.”

“I have potions, freshly brewed. May I take her to my Healer?”

“It may be some time Lord. She will be too weak to winter in the forest.”

“One more child in my sanctuary is no worry Hyppos.” Harry takes the foal in his arms, whispering a weight-lightening spell.

“We can finish the task here Lord.”

“I will be back as soon as I have settled this young one.” Harry sighs. “Yours are the last of the beings. The rest of the tents are various creatures. You can let the ones that are well loose in the woods.”

“When the child is well we shall come to you.”

Harry is long used to the ways of centaurs. He accepts that they will know.

“I'll let the village know that you are in the woods. You can trade for such supplies as you may need, and like the villagers you have the right of common gather in the kitchen gardens and the common Potion garden. Try to mind the border wards, there are Muggle villages near by.”

Hyppos nods. Harry turns on his heel and apparates to the healers ward in the Keep. An ailing centaur foal will be a challenge.

Hyppos gravely observes his herd as they bring their dead from the tent. Three centaurs of the ten had passed away, as he had foreseen. It had been four foretold, but now Hyppos has some hope for the life of his foal, though he knew her future was lost to them. Her life belonged to the Magus now.

“Be at ease watcher. We mean no harm” He suddenly spoke.

The small figure behind the gate flinched and nearly fell over.

“Who are you? What are you?”

Hyppos approached the youngling. It was a young wizard. A strong one, Hyppos thought.

“We are centaurs. Thy Lord has rescued us from certain death.”

The young child stared up at Hyppos. He is trying to control his features, but his small face is shadowed with confusion.

“You were in a tent in a box. How can you be alive?”

“When the tent is folded the enchanted space within pauses in time, and all within it.”

“The other tents ...they were all dead. I don’t even know what half of them were.”

“All desperate survivors seeking sanctuary, just as we were” Hyppos said gravely.

“From what?” the boy asked.

“I cannot say. Our oaths prevent it.”

“Lord Peverell saved you.” the boy said. “Like he saved me.”

“Yes. What is thy name young wizard?” Hyppos already knows, but he must always ask. Being a seer is a life full of headaches,

“My name is Thomas Riddle.” The young boy says defiantly.


End file.
